


I can see you, even in the shadows

by GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver



Series: Human AU [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6010546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver/pseuds/GoodDalekPeppergrinderfromdowntheRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU </p><p>It had been five years. A lot had changed since then. He'd since moved from London, to Leadworth. London soon became a little too claustrophobic for his liking. Everywhere, he would be met with pity. His neighbors would cook for him and try to do as much as possible to help ease the burden of grief. He appreciate all the help - of course he did - but it was just that they would place their hands on his shoulder, as if he was a child and they would tell him that he needed to move on. Well not so bluntly, but in disguise. Maybe you should clear out all her stuff John? Maybe you should try dating again? Maybe you should get someone to move in with you? They would look at him with such pity, that he could not move on. He'd have to relive her death every time someone talked about it in an attempt to try and make him forget. Then at work, they would all treat him like a wounded animal. If John roars at you, then just back away, he is in a lot of pain. Try to help John as much as possible, because he cannot do much himself. Try not to use the d word around him... One day, it got too much, so he quit his job, sold his house and ran away to Leadworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChiefDoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiefDoctor/gifts), [BloodyBrokenAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyBrokenAngel/gifts), [butterflyarashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyarashi/gifts).



> initially posted for international fan day and valentines day. 
> 
> I thought international fanfic day was tomorrow, so I was thinking, I have time to write something. However, I log onto A03 and apparently it is today... This may be a little rushed because I was eager to publish something. I was going to do it all in one chapter, but I think it would be better if I thought it through. However, I will be done with this story pretty quick. I do not intend for it to drag on.
> 
> I thought, hmmm, because it is Valentine's day, I will try and combine it into what I write and like write like a Eleventh/River AU Valentine's day fanfic. 
> 
> Oh. So you are probably wondering why I gifted this to you: ChiefDoctor, BloodyBrokenAngel and butterflyarashi. I guess, I felt like it... Hope you like it... :)

Once upon a time, John Smith embraced all the romance and cheesiness that came along with Valentine's day. He'd feel excitement swirl through him in the morning and leap out of bed as quickly as possible. He'd fumble around attempting to make his wife breakfast. Despite all the bashing into doors and falling about, his wife would remain sound asleep and oblivious to his attempts to surprise her. He'd make her a full English breakfast - or as much as he could manage - and then he would run to the local park and cut a few roses - her namesake - and bundle them in his arms. Usually, it went well. (Although there was one time that he got locked outside and he ended up having to climb in through the window. His wife startled and woken by the fire alarm, thought he was a burglar attacked him with a pan.)  

They would spend the day together. Just talking and learning more about each other. There was no need to book a table at a fancy restaurant that sold expensive red wine and food too rich for their taste. There was no need to acknowledge their love with obnoxiously sweet chocolate. Nor did they have a reason to buy teddy bears and lavish each other with impractical fluffy stuff.They had each other which was all they needed in the word.

That was before.  

Before when time was on their sides. Before his world crumbled into pieces. Before when time was mellow and sweet. Now, time was adamant in poisoning love with grief and pain. Or in other less poetic words, she died. He watched his wife deteriorate and decay and he felt utterly helpless. He tried to hold on to her; if he could feel her and watch her vigilantly, he would not - could not - lose her. However, before his very eyes, her vibrant blonde hair turned straw and frail. Her eyes that once sparkled became dull and desperate. Her youthful skin became rigid. One day, she was full of life. The next, he was half of himself - the better half - was dead. 

So he swore, never again. Never again would he allow his stone heart to be eroded by any assaults of affection. Never again would he give someone half of himself because now, he was lost, lonely and broken. Never again would he embrace Valentine's day. 

 

 

It had been five years. A lot had changed since then. He'd since moved from London, to Leadworth. London soon became a little too claustrophobic for his liking. Everywhere, he would be met with pity. His neighbors would cook for him and try to do as much as possible to help ease the burden of grief. He appreciated all the help - of course he did - but it was just that they would place their hands on his shoulder, as if he was a child and they would tell him that he needed to move on. Well not so bluntly, but in disguise. _Maybe you should clear out all her stuff John? Maybe you should try dating again? Maybe you should get someone to move in with you?_ They would look at him with such pity, that he could not move on. In their eyes he'd always be the young widowed sad man. He'd have to relive her death every time someone talked about it in an attempt to try and make him forget. He had thought that over time, he'd be able to escape the claws of everyone's pity. That in time, he'd become unnoticed because there was nothing special about him - he had just lost someone, like millions had done before. However, he was wrong. People went on to calling him lonely and desperate. 

Work was no better. He had expected them to be sympathetic for the first week and then  as time wore on, he thought they would be more indifferent and sterile to his grief, after all, he did not really actually talk to any of his colleagues. However, three years on and they were still treating him like a wounded animal. _If John roars at you, then just back away, he is in a lot of pain. Try not to use the d word around him... What d work? Oh yeah, dead._ One day, it got too much, so he quit his job, sold his house and ran away to Leadworth.

He'd severed all ties with old friends. He stopped replying to emails, text messages and calls and they had stopped putting the effort into contacting someone who refused to socialize. And finally, he was free. 

 

At first, in Leadworth, he was alone. Alone, with no one in the world. He thought that that was what he wanted - if he could not have her, then he did not want to have anyone. However, the silence was suffocating and he found himself immensely lonely. He'd try to escape the loneliness by going to a local café and sitting in the same seat every day for hours. Hoping. Hoping that perhaps a waiter or waitress had become fond. Hoping that as well as taking his order, that they would ask him how he was, or something... anything... just communicate with him. 

It had been two months in and none of the staff had tried to communicate with him. His own fault, he thought. He had been rather frosty for the first week and by the looks that they gave each other whenever he entered, he was sure that no one would be getting over it anytime soon. Why did he have to be such an idiot? 

 

The day when everything changed, it was rather quite. The wind was whistling a calm melody and he'd been sat there for a while, staring into his empty tea mug, feeling distant from the world and numb. Abruptly, the door swung open and an elderly couple entered. They were bickering, and rather loudly. However, John only gave them fleeting notice. He could not understand the foreign and alien language in which they spoke, because they sounded happy. 

He was jolted back to reality with a pat on his back.  

"Try look a wee bit happier," A lady with a thick Scottish accent said. He scowled, but when he looked up to see the lady smiling at him, he'd adjusted his face to a sort of smile. He hadn't smiled in ages so he was rather surprised to find that his muscles remembered just what to do to make his lips curl, even if it was slightly.  He gazed at her intently and it was rather magical. Her smile was so disarming and familiar - of that of an old friend, only they had never met before. She had silvery strands of hair, although they were greatly outnumbered by the many ginger ones. Her face was wrinkled, though gracefully. Besides her was a man with kind eyes and a disarming smile. He wore thick framed glasses that did not quite suit him and his head was coated with grey hairs.  

"We don't usually come her. Thought perhaps we'd have a change and then we bump into you, all miserable. What's your name?" The lady asked. 

"I am John Smith." He introduced himself. He was unsure what compelled him to do so. Was it the loneliness? Was it that he was hoping that someone would notice him? Was it that the elderly couple seemed so familiar and cordialle?  

"Amy Pond and my stupid face husband Rory Pond," The lady replied.  

"Amy and Rory Williams." The husband disputed, though it was obvious that it did not really matter to him whether he was Pond or Williams. Amy rolled her eyes and informed John that in their 40 years of marriage, no one had ever called them Williams - not even _his_ family. Her and her husband then sat down and she announced that they would henceforth be calling him raggedy man. He protested with mock outrage. However, she was fairly justified. He had let himself go. His tweed jumper was cut in several places - he'd had an accident with the toaster... and the vacuum cleaner and some tea. He had not shaved for a month and he let his hair grow out, so he looked less like a physics lecturer, but more like a hippie.  

"Why do you look so sad?" Amy finally asked after an hour of talking and he sighed. They had been incredibly amiable. However, he needed a fresh start. Craved one. Raking up the shallow grave where his past sat patiently was not the best of ideas, so he merely replied, "Life can be brutal sometimes."  

They did not pry any further, sensing that it was not the right time. Instead, Amy sighed and clasped her hand in his and said "I am afraid that life can be brutal and painful sometimes. But you know what you do? You let it inspire you instead of cripple you."  

 

At first he had been resistant to getting to know them after the cafe. They had invited him to lunch and dinner and he missed both. They'd insisted that he come with them to walk their dog Idris and he had agreed, only to throw some phony excuse the hour before. They ventured all the way to the cafe again just to see him. Rory was disappointed and his very Scottish wife was absolutely fuming.

"Raggedy man, I am trying to be nice here. You are lonely and sad so just accept our offers or all hell well break lose!" 

  
 To save himself from her wrath, he started to turn up to outings. He had to admit, that he was really happy they Amy was a meddler. He had thought that allowing himself to get close to someone else would be brutal. That he'd just be setting himself up to fall because people just shriveled and died one day. However, during his friendship with his Ponds, he found himself questioning his ideology. Was it not better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all? The grief would kill him, but when he was all alone, he may as well have been dead already. He could not carry on like that. 

Eventually, he moved in with the Ponds a little while after. They had insisted and his flat was too big and too empty for just the one person anyway. They were his best friends and the parents that he never had.

 

 

 

A lot had changed in the five years. However, one thing never did. He never embraced Valentine's day.

On the sixth year, he found himself running in Leadworth Park at 11:00pm. It was pitch black and the air was rather icy. The cold seeped in through his skin into his bones. He cursed inwardly for not wearing longer sleeves.  

At first, Leadworth Park had been astounding. He could not help but marvel at how beautifully sculptured nature was. Every blade of grass was a vibrant green and each swayed uniformly to the melody the wind played. The trees at the time were naked. Without leaves or flowers. They were thin, dark and bony. All with their own story to tell of sorrow, life and grief. There was a pond hidden by the grass that swished and sang calmly. At first, he was overwhelmed by how raw and beautiful nature could be. However, eventually, he'd become acclimatized to it all. The grass merely hid dog poo and the trees were blended into the background and did not exist in their own right.  

Why was he running? Why not he thought. He always ran on Valentine's day. Well since... since her passing. He'd run, just because he could. Because it reminded him of who he was and what he did. He ran. He ran from things and it was a little comforting acknowledging that. He ran till he could feel his heart pound vigorously and till he could feel the blood rushing through his vessels. He ran until he literally had to heave in air. Till his lungs were in sheer agony. And after that, he relented.  

 That day, he stopped before he could feel all of that. He'd heard something - a soft melody. He had no idea why he felt compelled to stop in his tracks. He was no alien to the concept of singing. It was a lady - that he was sure of. Although, he could not see her. All he could make out were shadows. He had bad eyesight and never admitted he needed glasses. He followed the sound and soon found himself behind her. He listened for a minute to her soft laments and felt tears cascade down his face. He had no idea a sound so beautiful and soft could be laced with so much pain.  

He wanted to hold her. To hold the stranger and to hug her until all her pain - their pain - dissipated away. He wanted to tell her what Amy had told him all those years back.  _"I am afraid that life can be brutal and painful s_ _ometimes. But you know what you do? You let it inspire you instead of cripple you."_ However, he did not get the chance to. Her singing abruptly stopped. She shot up and before he knew it, he was in a headlock. "I will break every bone in your body and not even feel the slightest bit of remorse. Why are you watching me?!" 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have already realized this but I edited the chapter.

Usually, she was not the type to be caught off guard. Usually, she was alert. She could smell a rat from miles away and identify a threat before it even became one. She could tell whether a person was lying or not before they spoke - calling her quick or clever refused to do her justice.

  
However, today she'd been sentimental, sad and stupid. She'd decided that she would take of her armor for just a little while. It couldn't harm, right?  After all, it was a pitch black Valentine's day night - most people would be at home making babies. Or all alone in the pub, wallowing in pity. No one would be out in a park at this time in the dark and if there were people, it would not matter because no one would recognize her submerged in the dark. By morning, she'd be done. It was like she was not even there. A ghost loitering in the dark.

  
She sat by the pond in Leadworth Park staring into the soft ripples. She hadn't meant to get so carried away, only she had seen her own reflection. It was blurry and almost hard to make out in the dark. But she shone her phone into the water to get a good look. Her own face so tired and torn with grief. How hadn't she seen before? No, actually, how come she dared to look tonight? What made her stop and look? Bravery or cowardice?

  
She began to sing; she simply could not control herself. The soft sad words fell out. Soon, they were no longer just words in a sentence. They were no longer just words to a tune. They were more. More important. More overwhelming. She felt the words with her whole body. They surged through her soul and left her broken inside. More broken than she already was. They were the words that spilled out of her wounds as if it was blood. They were the mistakes of her past ensnaring her. They were powerful. She felt them hit her like heavy razor sharp raindrops - the tears she refused to cry. She felt them untie the knot in her lungs. For the first time in ages, she could breathe. She felt utterly distraught, but so free as well.

  
That momentarily lapse had left her more vulnerable than she realized. Suddenly, after pausing, she realized that there was a figure behind her. For the first time in ages, she actually felt scared. Fear did not assault her as it normally affected people. She sprang up and instincts kicked in.

  
"I will break every bone in your body and not even feel the slightest bit of remorse. Why are you watching me?!" She asked. She hoped that is sounded rather scary and that whoever was there did not hear the fear in her voice.  
  
John was scared. Scared did not quite cut it. He was absolutely petrified. He wasn't sure whether being put in a headlock was what scared him, although, it was definitely not what he was used to. He was scared that he had got it oh so wrong. For someone with such a sweet soft voice, she could sure sound threatening.

  
"I... I.. I was... I was running and I stopped.... I heard singing," He managed to splutter out. She loosened her grip around his neck - this bumbling fool could not hurt her - and he added, "I heard singing and it was beautiful and infinitely sad and I... I am sorry for scaring you..."

  
She released her grip from him entirely rather startled... She had just met him but ... he was different from most people.  For one, most people did not just stop and watch others. Also, he had called her singing beautiful and infinitely sad. Since when was pain and sorrow beautiful? Okay fine, artists had the ability to create a masterpiece. Artists wore their pain in the best colors. But for all the ordinary people like her, pain and sadness was a burdened that threatened to swallow her whole. There was nothing beautiful about that! Her actions betrayed her and she laughed before she could acknowledge what she was doing.

  
"Scared, oh sweetie, I am sure that I am the one who scared you!" The endearment had slipped out so easily even though she could not see this man's face.

  
He felt his face flush a little. He was scared that the lady could not see the raw red that he was becoming. She had called him sweetie - he had no idea why a mere endearment was getting him so flustered. He was not supposed to react this way to anyone. He was not supposed to feel a swirl of excitement through his bones. He was not supposed to feel his heart pound in his chest. Those feelings belonged to his dead wife.

"Why are you sad?" He asked.  
  
"Why are you still here?" She asked icily. For the second time in the space of a couple minutes, she was caught off guard. Now, that was rare. That was extremely rare. In fact, it did not happen... it was the way he asked. As if he knew her. As if he expected her to confined in him. Actually, she would have. She was tempted to actually let her guards down and to let the words fall out. That scared her quite a bit. No one had that affect on her. Absolutely no one... It had already got way too deep. Hopefully, he'd pick up on her frostiness and run away as fast as he could.

  
But, oh, she so desperately wanted to talk. It had been a long time since she actually said what she meant. It had been a long time since she'd allowed her mask fall off. She could... but she was uncertain. That was a feeling that she felt more and more these days. When she left, she was certain that it was the right thing to do. She was a scar, torn in a tapestry. She was cancer proliferating below the surface. She was utter destruction and she wanted to spare them. She did not want them to have to deal with the aftermath. She was certain when she left. Certain when she joined the gang. Certain whenever she did something stupid. However, as the years wore on, she began to feel less certain. Less certain of who she was or if she left with the best intentions. Now, standing in front of a man, she felt the most uncertain as she had ever. Foremost, she wasn't sure if she should tell him. He had asked. Was that concern in his voice or was it just him trying to get in her pants? After all, it was Valentine's day. He might have been some creep. He didn't seem to creepy; however, she could not be certain. She had never read a person wrong before, but something about the man she could not see left her questioning her thoughts. In the end, she decided that she would not take the risk. She would keep her problems and pain to herself.

"I do not know why I am still here. It feels... it feels like I should not just leave. You are sad and … and I cannot just leave."  
  
"You do not care about me. You do not even know me!" She hissed. Although, she was unsure whether she was talking to him or whether her words were directed to all the other people who told her that they cared.

  
He laughed sadly. The Pond's, his best friends, did not need to know him to care He did not need to know here to care. He was well acquainted with pain and hurt and problems - he greeted them like old friends. He knew what they could do and how they could destroy a person. Yes, he did not know her, but he knew roughly what was ensnaring her, and … well he could not just walk away. If the Pond's had walked away that day when they saw him in the cafe, who knew what would have become of him.

  
"I do care... believe me, I do. I may not know you, but I know pain. You do not want to tell me what is wrong. I understand. However, let me stay with you. Let me keep you company."

"No, I'd rather you leave me." She replied quickly and uncertain. She was falling in too deep. She had not had not interacted with anyone in such a long time. It had been so dreadfully long. And... and... he was being so nice and when people were nice... when people were nice, they obviously had an agenda. With most people, it was what she could give them. She could not trust him... she could not trust anyone because she'd be let down and hurt and... and she needed to be better than that.

"Why not?" He probed. He was sure that he was entering dangerous territory now. She had made it clear that she really did not want to interact with anyone. She had put him in a headlock. Therefore, she had the potential to seriously actually harm him. He should have just left. Why was he still there? She was not his problem … but yet...

"Because no one actually cares. People just want stuff. People always have an agenda." She bit back.

"I want nothing from you, as hard as that is to believe. I promise. How about we just talk... just talk and then, when it starts to get light, we go our separate ways. Just two strangers talking in the dark talking... nothing more."

His argument sounded so compelling... She sighed heavily. "Fine." He sat on the grass and pulled her towards the ground with him.

 

  
It took her several minutes to regain her speech. She had not felt so... so... not numb in ages. A random stranger - a pervert, possibly - had pulled her to the ground and she actually felt lighter than usual. She actually felt... a bit happy, that he had not left her like everyone else in the world... Actually, that he would not let her leave. She could not get so attached though. She refused too... she'd talk to him for a bit and then leave...

  
Eventually, she managed to talk. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Well... I am a physics professor at a university. I like custard and fish fingers. I am accused of rambling on a lot by people which I really do not understand because I do not ramble on. I would like to think that I am clear and concise and I do not beat around bushes for hours and hours like some people say. I am …" She laughed at him. She actually laughed. Genuinely. She was caught by surprise. She had not heard herself laugh in such a long time. The sound was alien. Almost. It wasn't as bitter as she expected it to be and it was actually... actually pleasant.

"What is so funny?" He asked.

"Custard and fish fingers, seriously?" She asked incredulously. "So, what is your name?"

  
"John. John Smith." He replied. Immediately, she stiffened. Oh. Oh... this... this was not good. This was bad... John Smith? Was he that John Smith? The one who... it had to be... it couldn't... Perhaps she could just get up and leave. He probably hadn't seen her at all... but still, there was something comforting about being there with him. He was... the first person to ever really care since them. He had a kind heart, that's probably why they liked him? No, it was too hasty of her to be drawing conclusions about what he was and what he wasn't.

"And you?" He asked. She smirked and stared at the pond besides her. Oh, the irony. He had found her besides a pond, singing.

  
"Oh, I am not really here." She replied.  She should not have been there, but she felt sentimental. It was the pond that they took her to when she was a little kid. They would skip stones and she would stare at the pond at her reflection and laugh, whenever she saw something moving inside of it. Those were the simple days. The ones where it did not matter what she was and she missed them so much. She had run away, but came back to where she came from because she was soppy and sentimental.

  
"You are to me." He blurted out, before he realized what he was saying. He groaned inwardly. He would not have been surprised if she sprung up and ran as far away as possible from him. "No... I mean... I mean... you... you seem real..." He spluttered. She smiled - almost laughed - he had not understood her... of course she was there. She was only a ghost metaphorically - not literally. Only she may as well have been one, because she was not really there to anyone who mattered. They could not see that she was so closed to home. She did not intend to go back or to leave traces of her presence. Therefore, she wasn't there, really.

  
Eventually, she reached out for his hand in the darkness. She knew very well what the repercussions would be, but she was impaired a little. She could let herself hope and belief and trust for one night only. Even if it left her more broken inside. It would only be for the night then they'd go their separate ways. 

  
Her hand was soft. It felt right, interlocked in his. That scared him a little. He was not supposed to feel anyone else's hands in his, in that way. He was not supposed to feel at comfort with another woman... He was so startled that he might have actually yanked his hands out of hers is his rational mind had not stopped him. Holding hands for her was obviously a big thing. She was wounded and broken and could not trust people from what he had seen already and he had some how been able to wear away at her stubbornness. He could not do something so stupid and callous as let go just when he had started to make progress.   
  
They talked for hours. Talked about superficial stuff. About their jobs, friends, hobbies and politics. He mocked her on her interest of archaeology and history, but after a while, even he became a little interested in what she had to say.

Both of them guarded their pain. They talked so much but said nothing. It was rather comforting for the both of them. They felt - not saw. They were both shadows in the dark and strangers to each other. They were lost souls - but together.

  
Eventually, she decided that she could trust him. She wanted to leave as soon as she found out his name. She had wished that he wasn't _that_ John Smith. However, she had known that it could not have been a coincidence that she was with that John Smith. Yes, John Smith was a generic common name. However, it just _had to be_ that John Smith. The one she saw in the super market with them. The one that she had checked up and carried out a background check on, just to see if he was good enough for them.

She knew that he'd be able to piece together the puzzle if she told him and that after that everything would be entirely out of her control.... However, over the hours she had spent talking to him, she had realized that perhaps... that perhaps loneliness was not worth it... perhaps she was wrong all those years ago.

 

  
She sighed. " John, okay, let us strike a deal. You tell me about your pain and problems, and I will tell you mine." She could feel him stiffen besides her and was sure that it was way too soon, until he replied with "Okay."

"You start." He said, gripping her hands tighter and she sighed heavily. 

  
"I hurt people. I hurt people who did not deserve it. I never killed... but what I did... it was awful... I joined gang, eight years ago. I ran away and joined a gang. They called themselves the Silence. I... I was young, wild and stupid... and they took advantage... I am a horrible person. Some people ended up in hospital for months and I ruined people's livelihoods. I stole their money, cars and other stuff. I realized that it was bad after a year. I stopped being able to look at myself in the mirrors. So then one day, I left. I hated myself so much for being so stupid and I had this misguided idea that if I was loved by someone else then I would be worthy. But I ended up more broken because people took advantage. People just used me... I did stupid stuff..." Tears cascaded down her face... she could not control it. At least, he could not see her face to see the tears. She held her breath for a couple seconds. The silence that stretched between them was disconcerting... He was judging her. Wasn't he? Her only friend - friend? Was it too early to call him a friend? - her … the stranger she sat next to, was the only person who knew her... really. She did not want him to leave... ever. She was already fond. More than fond. He had made her laugh. Made her feel so alive and in the short space of hours, his opinion already mattered.

  
He clasped her hand tighter. No. He was not about to just leave her. She was not a bad person and he could not convince him that she was.. she was just broken and he understood. "I killed a man... I was a soldier once. And I killed a man. I did not know him. All I knew was that they told me he was the opposition and that I should kill as many as them as I could. The way they made it seem was like they devoid of emotions and souls. As if they were just empty vessels. The more I thought about it, the more I realized, that this man, probably had family and friends. He left a life behind and intended to get back to it. And I... I shot him down, cold blooded. They told me they were the monsters... but really, I was." He was unsure of how she would react to his revelation. He had never told anyone this before - not even his dead wife, because he did not want her to see him as what he actually was. He expected her to remove his hand from hers. To get up and run away. However, she stayed there by his side. In fact, she shifted closer. That, he was glad of. He could not see her face and she could not see him, but he felt as if they could see each other perfectly. They could see what each other were like when they took of the masks that the showed the rest of the world. "I am just evil, aren't I?"  


"No." She whispered with so much conviction that he even decided that he'd believe it. She laughed a little. "You're not. I mean, who sits in the park in the night with a lady he does not know? " 

"But I have done bad things-"  
  
"Everyone has. At least you feel remorse. Imagine doing horrible things and not even caring? Not even feeling pain?"

He gripped her hand tighter. "I don't even know you name. I don't even know who you are and yet... "

"This feels right." she silently finished. 

 

They sat in silence for ten minutes. 

  
"I ran away from home. I was adopted by a nice couple and they raced me up and love me. I loved them too, but I ran when I was old enough because I was scared I would hurt them and now I am back. I came back because I was sentimental. I did not intend to go to see them... I have been watching them for a while... a week now and they live with this guy... I was going to continue running, but after talking to you,  now I realize that I should never run when I am scared... I should deal with the consequences. " She told him. She was hoping that John Smith would _hear_ what she just said. It was time. It was time to go home... She wanted him to take her home.

  
"I ran away once too... well my wife died and I could not bear to stay in London, so I moved her and I was so lonely and then one day this nice elderly couple spoke to me and now I live with them. They are my best friends now. The parent's I wish mine were... they... they..." He had looked her direction and felt his hearts leap. They had told him that they lost their daughter... never really elaborated. He had assumed that that meant death... but... but... No... no.

"What is your name?" He gasped.

"Melody. Melody..." She said softly.

"Melody what?" He asked.... hoping... perplexed but more certain than he had been in ages... if she was who he thought she was... Oh, he hoped that for once, the world could be forgiving and fair.

She laughed. Giggled actually. She giggled. "Will you take me home John Smith?" She asked. "I know that this was just for the night. That we were supposed to walk in opposite directions and continue life as if this encounter had not happened... But.. This is the most fixed I have ever felt ever. This night was supposed to mean nothing, like so many of the other nights I have spent with men. I think however, this is the most important life of my night... and I have been running so long that I forgot my reasons, but now, I want to go home."

 

  
He pulled her up to her feet. He was absolutely giddy and excited. As soon as they were on their feet, they ran. They had both run from so much in the past. They had thought that it would never catch up to them if they continued running, and sitting in the park, talking all night, they had realized that they were so wrong. Now they were running - not away from, but towards home.  
  
They stood at the door, John panting and Melody bracing herself. They stood at the door for a couple of minutes. They could finally see what each other looked like. However, it did not matter, because they had seen each other before that. The stared at each other for a while. Both nervous. He squeezed her hand. Abruptly, she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek "Thank you." She said shakily. John nodded, still flustered about the kiss. He knocked on the door and Melody half hid behind him.

  
"JOHN!" Amy screamed as she opened the door. "You had me worried sick. You never said you were going out! What is wrong with you knocking at this time of the night. Oh and there is someone behind you. What is wrong with you coming home at this time of the night and bringing home a stray -" At which point Amelia stopped in her tracks. The lady came into full view. It had been many many long years, but Amelia Pond knew what her daughter looked like. Her daughter was right in front of her, yet she could not believe it. She would not believe it. It could not be her. She had been lost for years now. Amelia had thought that she... 

 

  
"Mother..." She whispered. Amy was completely still. Face revealing nothing. John squeezed her hand in reassurance and she breathed in. "Mother." She said more confidently. "I am home. And I am sorry. Really sorry. " Melody Pond had felt the burden that sat on her, dissipate into nothing. Yes. She would have to learn to stay put. She would have to come to terms with her past. However, for now, it did not matter.

Her mom pulled her in for a hug. "Oh you idiot, you had me worries sick! I shall have to ground you so that you never do something like this again!" She said in between her sobs. "Stupid face, come here now!" She screamed to her husband.

Watching them, John could not help but smile. John Smith had made himself a promise. He would not love another.However, he had also wanted a fresh start, all those years ago. He'd realized that he had deprived himself of a proper fresh start, not dealing with the past. He now made himself two new promises. He'd love Melody for as long as time permitted - if she'd let him.

 

\- The end - 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. I am finished. Hope you liked it... :) Sorry for any errors... I have not proof read yet. I was just so eager to finish.


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